There’s some fatality that draws me to thee,
Like I had known thee somewhere long ago.
Guin. My lord!
Laun. Thou art all glory, all that this life is,
And all before but one poor pallid dream
Of this real living. Now I see thy face,
I know what heaven is and all delights
That erring mortals lost in Paradise.
Guin. My lord! (Aside) Sweet heaven this be too blessed.
Laun. Fair maiden, Princess, lady, what thou art